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Once this used to be the {monsoon}

Amidst all the moving in and out; I totally forgot about completing
four long years of blogging in April this year. Nevertheless let’s smile and
celebrate our conversations and my monologues in the last four years and our
frequent and at times rare rendezvous. Thank you for standing by throughout.

This year the Bombay summers were quite harsh like usual and
we all silently hoped for calming monsoons from our little pockets of the island.
Then one day the clouds gathered to hide us all and left us drenched as we
flaunted our dusty umbrellas and torn raincoats. Staring at the enormous skyline,
we welcomed the non-resident Bombay monsoons.

The trains were once again flooded with watery boots,
sparkling windows and smiling faces. We all were well armed for the anticipated
heavy showers until one day the clouds cunningly went back in their conch flanked
by the beaming sun.

The entire month of June has passed by and the rains have
conveniently escaped our thoughts. My hometown too longs for the showers like
rest of India. What happened to the Rain
God and what happened to the time that was once called the monsoon?

Traveling alone since I was sixteen; from the then deserted pathways of Auroville to teaching monks at a monastery in Dharamsala, from cooking for strangers in Morocco to make a living to finding my family roots in the mystical land of Benares; little did I know that a timid little boy who was brought up in an unconventional milieu would someday articulate his thoughts through visuals that would speak his mind.